Mirror Image
by kuroren23
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki contemplates the genius behind genetics and the quirks of fate that makes life all the more enjoyable.


Authors Note:

Welcome back my Muse! Sort of. Just a random drabble that's been bouncing inside my head. Standard disclaimer applies since I sure know Bleach isn't mine though a girl can dream, right?

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MIRROR IMAGES

**_Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror._**

_Khalil Gibran_

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_Seiritei, Court of Pure Spirits _

_50 Years after the Winter War_

He has been staring at him for a good portion of an hour and the realization that sledgehammered its way through him wasn't the most comfortable even if it was, in its own way, pretty darn amusing. He figured with everything that occurred in his life, why shouldn't the matter regarding his children be any different. There was no getting around it. His first born was a vision and study in contradiction.

At ten, he should look like any other rambunctious child and he was, for the most part. He is loud, boisterous, prone to mischief and physically incapable of staying still. He played, ran around all day, complained about his studies and bedeviled his younger siblings with teasing and pranks. He laughed with abandon and was cursed with a few notable flaws-two of which is directly linked with the females in his life. His son was a consummate mama's boy (like his father before him) and he possessed the most intensive, obsessive form of sister complex he surely must've inherited from his grandfather, father and uncle in horrendous, frightening measure.

At ten, his son was already a handful. And it had everything to do with his captain-class level reiatsu, although that had been a concern since other than Yachiru, no one else had ever seen a baby born with such a strong reiryoku. No baby-not even one born from the Four Noble Houses-had ever been born with a reiatsu so strong it literally ripped a hole straight into Hueco Mundo the first time he cried. It definitely limited the number of eligible nannies and babysitters since the primary condition for a candidate was the ability to shunpo and over average ability in kidou.

At ten , his son was a vision that called attention wherever he went in the three realms. The pale skin he clearly inherited from his mother, coupled with the long-limbed physique that he contributed into the boy's making lent him grace to his every move-something even he, his own father, could never have accomplished no matter what he did. It didn't help that he had even more delicate facial features than Byakuya and that on anyone else his visage would've been called effeminate but on him could only be described as riveting- violet eyes framed by thick sooty lashes and arched brows, a thin perfectly formed nose and lips that was set on a firm line. If that wasn't enough to make him stand him stand out his face was framed by the long wavy brown blonde hair he must've gotten from his paternal grandmother tied back a simple topknot strangely reminiscent of senbonzakura.

All in all his son should look like a pansy except that there was nothing soft about the boy. At ten he should look and act like a mismatched assembly of body parts and pimples and insecurity. Instead, he looked more spirit than man, never mind that he was only a quarter mortal and that for most of his life, he was surrounded technically by dead people.

In truth, what bothered him the most was the picture the boy made when he picked up one of the practice katana's found in the Kuchiki manor. His son is a powerful, beautiful, mama-obsessed, sister-possessive, sarcastic young boy. He regularly annoyed his uncle, both blood-relations and otherwise (Renji, Ikkaku, Ganju and even Kenpachi—jii) and beat up his grandfather with joyous abandon. His son was destined for great things, no doubt. But what really ticked him off and tickled him the most was this-His first born, Kurosaki Hikaru, his mother's very own 'ray of light' looked like a mirror copy of a brown-haired version of his bloody zanpakutou-in bankai.

Byakuya will surely die of jealousy one of these days when he realizes this.


End file.
